


Made with Love

by ami_ven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: writerverse, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 04:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6889417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cas temporarily runs out of power, he has a place to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made with Love

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "writerverse" prompts "cedar" & "lobster thermidor in a white wine sauce"

Castiel woke slowly, deliberately not using his still-recovering grace, but instead allowing himself to sense things as humans would. The sheets were soft beneath his fingers, but cool where they should have been warmed by a familiar human body. They smelled like Dean, though, something Cas could detect even under the scent of the detergent they also used on their clothes and a trace of cedar from the lining in the Men of Letters linen closet.

He opened his eyes, taking in the familiar sight of the room he now shared with Dean, but was currently occupying alone. The clock beside the bed showed that it was just after one o’clock in the afternoon, which meant he had been asleep almost twelve hours. Cas recalled the circumstances of his arrival, using almost the last of his grace to transport to the Bunker and collapsing into Dean’s arms, managing to reassure both brothers that he had merely ‘depleted his batteries’, to use their own terms, and would be fine after some rest. He could feel that he had ‘recharged’ a great deal, but would probably require several more days before he was up to full strength again.

Cas got carefully out of bed, pleased to find he could walk without difficulty. He had removed most of his clothing before he slept, so he pulled on one of Dean’s oldest, soft-worn t-shirts, then made his way to the kitchen.

“Hello, Dean.”

The human turned, grinning. “Hey, Cas. Feeling better?”

“Some,” he replied. “I will need to remain for at least two more days, perhaps three.”

“Well, great,” said Dean. “I mean, not great that you used up all your juice, but… Gotta take opportunities where you can get ‘em, right? Like this.”

He gestured toward the ingredients spread out on the counter. Cas frowned. “Are you preparing something?”

“Lobster thermidor,” Dean said, “in a white wine sauce. Never had it, but it sounds fancy and we’ve got the stuff, so— Wait, you can eat, right, Cas? You don’t feel sick or anything?”

The angel smiled. “I would love to try anything you make, Dean.”

“Yeah, well,” he replied, ducking his head. “You’re gonna help. Take a seat, and you can chop some things for me.”

Cas sat at the kitchen table, and when Dean brought him the cutting board and several cloves of garlic, he tugged the hunter in for a brief, fierce kiss.

THE END


End file.
